The emerald eyes of the warrior shone as they glared at the air in front of her, focusing her intent on an imaginary opponent before her.

  Monica watched from the side, prepared to remember every detail of this scene that they will witness, carving it into her memories and etching these teachings into her bones.

  Morus stared intently, he’s not a martial artist, but it doesn’t take an expert to tell that the people around them were the real thing.

  A breeze blew past, and the scarred woman blurred.

  The tip of the blade stroke the ground — the sword moving through it like paper — as the woman drew the sword from behind her and slashed it upwards, bringing up a small cloak of dust.

  The woman did a full rotation along her movement to conserve momentum and hide the path of her sword as she lowered her center of gravity in preparation of what was to come.

  Afterimages of the woman could be seen connecting the spin with multiple stabs in one smooth motion.

  Pockets appeared in the dust cloud where the sword had just gone through.

  The siblings gulped in awe and admiration, emotions rising from their heart.

  The swordswoman pulled from her final stab, leaning backwards almost horizontally from the waist, her pants faintly revealing the outline of her flexing quads as she kept herself stable and firmly planted on the ground.

  The sword travelled above her waist, above her chest. Once it cleared the space above her head, she kicked the ground with both feet to send herself upright.

  Immediately connecting with a horizontal slash.

  With the grace of a dancer, she raised her sword arm, elbow seemed to be touching the tips of her head as the sharp metal grazed her clothes by a hair’s breadth as she spun it above her shoulders.

  The graceful dance turned into a deadly one as it connected with a diagonal slash with impossible speed through the air towards the ground, blowing dust away from the trajectory of the blade.

  A dozen more seconds of her demonstration continued, showing off her footwork, her flexibility, her grace, as well as her ability with the sword.

  As she moved towards her ending stance, her free arm crossed horizontally against her chest, as if holding a shield, the non-dominant leg raised into the air as she stood one-legged, and the tip of the blade pointing into the sky, crane style.

  Monica’s eyes glittered with excitement and awe. She was vibrating with anxious energy, her desire to replicate what she had just witnessed with her own body was screaming at her to give it a go.

  Morus’ heart was beating like a drum within his chest, he was being shook to the core. If Gad’s demonstration was pure strength, Asa’s reminded him of something else.

  It was that of legacy.

  A form perfected over generations upon generations.

  Martial arts.

  If I’m no longer sick, am I able to learn Martial Arts as well?

  Movement from the woman in the training grounds awoke the two young people whose minds were wandering.

  While holding the sword, Asa cupped her hands together and bowed towards them.

  Thanking them for humoring her.

  The siblings clapped their hands and thanked her for what she had shown them.

  “Asa! Asa! Can I do that as well?”

  Midway sheathing her sword, the woman smiled, “Yes, you may.” And held out the sword horizontally towards Monica.

  Monica extended her hands forward, as the hilt dropped into her hands, her hands lowered from the sudden weight. Heavy.

  The girl looked up at the ranger who was also a swordswoman, she didn’t even break a sweat and her coif was not one bit disheveled.

  After handing the blade to Monica, Asa’s eyes rolled in thought.

  “Gad, please get me two wooden swords.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  The giant man walked away and went to retrieve what was asked of him.

  While he went to do that, Asa hovered around Monica to ensure the girl does not harm herself, also feeling the dangerous gaze that she was getting from the girl’s brother as she did not think it through before handing her a bladed weapon.

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  The swordswoman started teaching the aspiring swordswoman the motions of the routine she had done, but much slower and simple as well as careful.

  By the time Gad returned with the two wooden swords, Monica was moving towards the final stages of the routine. The crane style pose.

  Monica was given several pointers on how to stand, where her center of gravity should be during each move, which muscles to use while swinging a sword and also training methods to improve certain muscle groups.

  As Monica entered the crane position, one leg lifted, two arms outstretched as she balanced herself, she breathed in.

  Out.

  Her free arm crossed against her chest as her sword hand pointed up.

  A surge of emotions.

  The sense of accomplishment as she finished the routine.

  The excitement of learning something new.

  The giddyness of learning magic and sword arts.

  She felt like she belonged, however brief, however superficial, in this new land.

  A surge of light.

  Pointed up towards the sky.

  Emanated from the tip of the sword the moment Monica pointed it up.

  A giant beam of light brightened the sky.

  A beacon of light.

  Everyone currently outdoors in the village saw it.

  Everyone indoors felt it.

  The beam of light started dwindling in width.

  Then it disappeared into nothing.

  As if nothing had just happened

  Monica’s face paled as she stood petrified in the crane position.

  Her neck groaned as she slowly twisted it to meet Asa’s eyes.

  There was only shock and a pleasant horror, if that made sense.

  Morus and Gad stared up into the sky where the beam was just there.

  Their mouths agape.

  They looked at each other, and the sense of recognition from the other’s eyes told them they did not hallucinate.

  Vigil stared up as well, his tongue hanging out the front of his mouth as he panted along.

  Not knowing what to do, or perhaps thinking it was the best course of action…

  “Awooooo~”

  Within seconds of the appearance of the beacon of light, the villagers all appeared at the clearing, each holding a weapon or prepared to cast a spell at any moment.

  A few of them floating in the air.

  Most notably Bay, Ban and Jin.

  The farmer brothers held their respective tools in a combat ready manner, as they scanned the surroundings.

  Tentacles sprouted from the grassless clearing as Ren arrived.

  A bolt of yellow light as Chief Ata appeared beside Asa.

  Morus looked around at the mages and battle-ready villagers on the ground, in the air, on the walls.

  He gulped, and counted them, some they’ve met, but mostly haven’t.

  Twenty total.

  Chief Ata raised his hand and patted Asa on the shoulder.

  “Asa. What’s going on?”

  The swordswoman smiled ruefully.

  “False alarm everybody. It’s nothing. Proceed with your duties.”

  To which, most sighed in relief that nothing major happened.

  Some, like the farmers, grumbled under their breaths as if wishing something did happen.

  Asa raised her hand and waved everyone away.

  “We will speak later. For now, return to your posts.”

  Chief Ata raised an eyebrow at Asa, then he looked at Monica.

  The girl was looking down at the ground, tip of the sword stabbed into the ground as she rested her hand on the hilt of it.

  The ground is such a wonderful ground.

  As if piecing what had happened instantaneously within his head, Chief Ata chuckled and left while shaking his head.

  “Alright! Back to your posts everybody!”

  Chief Ata turned to shoot Asa a knowing smile, then continued on his way back to the forge.

  The rest of the villagers also disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

  The green tentacles that appeared briefly also were gone, leaving behind holes in the ground that spoke of their absence.

  Asa placed a hand on Monica’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

  “You did nothing wrong, child. Do not worry.”

  Monica looked up at Asa, her eyes watery with the look of a child who had wronged.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. You just harbor an impressive talent, that’s all.”

  Sniff.

  The girl wiped her eyes with her arm, then smiled at Asa.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened and how I did that.”

  The commander, in a display of rare affection, patted the head of Monica in a sisterly manner.

  “It is alright. You must be tired now, hmm? How about we go take a break now, calm down, relax and get ready for dinner?”

  Monica nodded her head, and held the sword sheepishly towards Asa, tip still pointing at the ground.

  Gently putting the sword away, Asa continued, “Remember my words, you did not do anything wrong, and nothing is going to happen to you or your brother. Now, run along now, we will speak of this at a later date. Perhaps tomorrow?”

  Monica nodded, and briskly turned around to sprint towards the longhouse, Vigil followed hot on her heels.

  Morus still sat there, a palm against his face, he muttered.

  “Does this change anything?”

  To which, he heard the reply carried by the wind.

  “Everything.”

  “And nothing.”

  As the wind rasped at his ears.